


The Best Mistake (You'll Ever Make)

by Alexandria (heartfullofelves)



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Episode: s02e07 Dead Man Walking, F/F, Femslash February
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 09:49:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3442655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartfullofelves/pseuds/Alexandria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwen doesn't know how to grieve, especially when the subject of her grief is still alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Mistake (You'll Ever Make)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first venture into femslash territory. Someday I’ll look back on this and die of embarrassment. Oh well. You have to start somewhere.

Gwen isn’t sure how to mourn Owen. Not when he’s still, somehow, in the land of the living. ( _Alive_ is too strong a term, she feels.) Everything has happened so quickly and she hasn’t had time to absorb it all: Owen being shot, Jack bringing him back to life, and then the discovery that Owen is stuck like this – a zombie, trapped in limbo. She’s still reeling from the initial shock of her friend’s – her ex-something’s ( _lover_ is too intimate a word, and _fuck buddy_ too dismissive) death, and all this extra… _stuff_ has not quite sunk in yet. Give it a few days and she’ll be fine, but for now she is a mix of emotions, going from one extreme to the other, overjoyed that they haven’t really lost Owen, yet confused over everything that’s happened.

She hears soft footsteps behind her. “You’re thinking too much,” says the voice, soft and empathetic, as if the owner knows just what Gwen’s going through.

She doesn’t turn around. “I know,” she speaks to the reflection in her black computer screen. She exhales, and it’s as if the life goes out of her along with her sigh. “It’s just… everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours… I don’t know what to feel,” she admits with a small cry. “I don’t know what to think, and I’m not even the one affected by all this. I can’t begin to imagine what Owen’s going through, but I want to understand, to be there if he needs support, and I just can’t-” she chokes and finds she is unable to finish her sentence.

Martha puts a hand on Gwen’s hip and pulls her around to face her. “It’s alright,” Martha tells her. “I know you want to help, but I don’t think you’re the one he’ll come to if he needs support from anyone. Let Jack take responsibility. You shouldn’t have this on your shoulders.”

There are tears on Gwen’s cheeks as she looks at the other woman. “Shouldn’t I? I’m meant to be the human perspective in Torchwood, the one to talk and listen when the others need it. It’s my duty to be there for everyone.”

Martha shakes her head and moves her hands up and down Gwen’s arms. “Not this time,” she tells her. “This time you need to process everything first. Be a little selfish until you really understand what’s happened and what Owen is feeling, _then_ you can be there.”

Gwen looks into Martha’s dark and serious dry eyes with her own wet hazel ones. “I’ve been selfish for most of my life. I’m sick of it,” she argues. “I’ve been putting myself first for too long.”

“I don’t think so,” Martha disagrees. “Everyone is selfish; that’s part of being human. But think of it this way: if you give yourself time to understand Owen before offering to lend him your ear or your shoulder to cry on, he’ll be grateful for it. Though from what I’ve seen of him, he won’t actually show it.” She smirks a little at that.

Gwen gives a small bark of laughter. “No, he won’t,” she agrees.

They fall silent, and then her heart skips a beat as Martha pushes a strand of hair out of Gwen’s face and gazes into her eyes. There is such empathy and compassion in that shared glance that she melts. She melts even more when the other woman leans in and presses soft lips to hers. Gwen kisses back, heart stuttering, and places her hands on Martha’s hips to support herself.

After a minute, Martha pulls back. “Maybe we should go back to my hotel?” she suggests in a hushed whisper.

Gwen blinks, startled by this sudden turn of events, and nods. She can see by the way Martha’s looking at her that Martha knows what she wants, and Gwen likes a person who knows what they want. It’s convenient that Gwen wants this too.

Actually… is it want, or _need_? she wonders, even as they head out of the hub and get into her car. The promise of release with someone who understands how shitty her job is, with someone who’s seen exactly what she’s seen in the past day – maybe it _is_ need.

After a short drive, she reverses into a space in the visitor car park, and Martha takes her hand and shows her to her hotel room. Once outside the door, about to insert the key card to unlock it, Martha hesitates.

“Are you sure about this?” she checks.

Gwen is reminded of her affair with Owen, and how guilty she felt for going behind Rhys’s back, but also of how exciting it was for her to have a dirty little secret. Going inside this room with Martha could be a big mistake, but because it’s forbidden fruit, she wants it even more. She’ll likely come clean about this later, confess to her fiancé and feel horrible for breaking his heart yet again, but _this_ , right now, is what she needs, and she puts her reservations out of mind so that she can live in the moment.

“Yes.”

Martha unlocks the door and slams it behind them when they’re inside the upmarket hotel room. Gwen manages to take in the flawless crème walls and a view of the Bay that, in the dark, is dotted with city lights, but on a sunny day must be breath-taking, before being led over to the luxurious king bed. She sits down on the edge, kicks off her shoes, and shrugs off her jacket, throwing it onto the floor. Martha has done the same, and Gwen reaches out to the other woman, grabbing her hand and pulling her onto the bed too. Gwen lands on her back, gazing up at Martha. The woman crawls up and puts her weight on her hands, which lie either side of Gwen’s head.

“Kiss me,” orders Gwen, her voice little more than a whisper.

Martha lowers herself down in half a push up so that she can touch her lips to Gwen’s. Gwen lifts up her chin to meet the other woman’s lips, and this is so much better than that kiss with Carys back on her first day at Torchwood, because this time it’s mutual, and she’s doing it of her own free will, without the influence of alien pheromones. She opens up her mouth and lets in Martha’s tongue. She’s kissed before, but this is something different. Martha’s softness, her femininity, so similar in build to herself, makes the rest of Gwen’s body beg to be touched, so she places a hand on the other woman’s breast and hopes Martha will get the hint.

She does.

Still continuing the thorough exploration of Gwen’s mouth, Martha slips a hand under her shirt and up to her breast, massaging her nipple through her bra. Gwen arches up into the touch and moans into the other woman’s mouth. She reaches up with both hands to start pulling off Martha’s shirt, and Martha pauses the kiss to sit up and rid them both of their shirts, leaving them in bra and jeans. Gwen pulls Martha back on top of her to resume the kissing, slow and hot and new.

This new sensation of being with a woman creates an ache down below, and as she reciprocates Martha’s kiss and reaches to undo the woman’s bra, she’s made aware of her hard nipples and wet core.

“Please,” she begs, though she’s not sure what she’s asking Martha to do. She guides the other woman’s hands down to the button on her jeans, and Martha obeys the command, undoing the button and then the fly.

“Are you really sure you want this?” the woman asks, almost an exact repeat of when she paused outside the door earlier. “I don’t want you thinking this was a mistake.”

Gwen’s “Yes” comes out hoarse, so she clears her throat and tries again. “Yes,” she says, a firmness in her voice. She knows the importance of consent more than those who’ve never worked in the police force, so she makes it clear that she’s certain. “This could well be a mistake, but if it is, let’s make it the best bloody mistake I’ll ever make.” And she lifts her hips to aid Martha in disrobing her.

She runs her hands down the other woman’s breasts and stomach, keeping her touch as light as a feather, and down to the top of Martha’s jeans. Her fingers are steady as she undoes Martha’s trousers and helps her out of them. The sight of soft brown thighs makes her breath hitch, and she never thought that the sight of another woman naked could arouse her this much, but then she’s not thinking at all, because she’s being divested of her panties to be left lying on the mattress fully unclothed.

Martha’s full weight is on top of her now, but the other woman is slim, and the weight is of a pleasant sort. She is surrounded by Martha, dominated by the feel of breasts, stomach, and thighs on top of her own, the scent of Martha’s fruity perfume in her nostrils and Martha’s minty taste on her tongue. Her body screams for more, more, more.

Martha trails kisses down her neck and along her collarbone as she pushes a finger inside Gwen’s opening. Gwen shudders in pleasure as Martha nips at the delicate skin on her clavicle while thrusting a single finger into her. She moans as Martha finds her clitoris, massaging the area around it because her clit itself is too sensitive. Martha alternates between rubbing and thrusting, leaving Gwen a mess as her hand clenches in Martha’s straight black hair and tries to hold on. The stimulation gets too much and she’s not aware of the noises she’s making, gasping Martha’s name and begging her not to stop. Martha’s mouth then moves back to Gwen’s own. That, combined with the skilled and quick work of Martha’s long, elegant fingers, pushes Gwen over the edge. Her vision blurs.

“Oh god, Martha!” she cries as her body arches up once again for its climax at last.

Through half-open eyes, she watches at the other woman sits up, still straddling her, and licks clean her thumb and first two fingers one by one. Another shot of desire pools in Gwen’s stomach as Martha sticks her ring finger in her mouth and sucks off Gwen’s juices, meeting Gwen’s lustful gaze as she does so. Gwen’s mouth is open, panting. Her eyes are drawn to the other woman’s red panties that look a little wet.

“Do you want me to…?” she offers, but Martha shakes her head.

“Tonight, this is about you,” she explains.

Before Gwen can ask what that means, Martha, still kneeling above her thighs, slips her own hand inside her pants. Gwen can do nothing but watch, rendered speechless, as Martha brings herself to orgasm, head thrown back with eyes closed and mouth open as she whimpers.

Gwen grabs Martha’s shoulders once the woman has come, and brings her back down to her for a hot and lingering kiss.

“That,” she says, and nips at Martha’s ear, “is the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.”

Martha grins at her, a flash of white teeth that contrast against her skin. “There’s plenty more where that came from,” she answers, and rolls them over to show Gwen just what else she’s capable of.

Gwen’s earlier confusion has dissipated, gone out the window, and she refuses to think about it tonight. _Oh yes,_ she thinks at some stage, _the best bloody mistake indeed._


End file.
